Among the many lessons in “A Thousand Words” is how to manufacture a slick and generic Hollywood comedy-drama. In the simplicity of its premise it embodies the notion of high-concept entertainment. In its execution it demonstrates how technical efficiency can drain the life from a story.

Eddie Murphy plays Jack McCall, a Type A literary agent who, like Ari Gold on “Entourage,” abuses his loyal assistant (an amusing Clark Duke) in his quest to seal a deal, sparing no time for his wife (Kerry Washington) and young son. As he courts a New Age guru (Cliff Curtis) for a book, a magical tree appears in his backyard. Anything it experiences, he experiences: a watering; a dousing with powerful chemicals; a chop to its trunk. Worse, it sheds a leaf for every word Jack utters, bringing both him and the tree closer to death.

Bring on the comic pantomime as the anguished Jack alienates clients and his officious boss (Allison Janney). Add the perennially appealing Ruby Dee for dramatic heft, as Jack’s declining mother, pining for the husband who left her. And unleash the platitudes about the values of silence, listening and forgiveness. And don’t forget diffuse light and lush orchestral swells to hammer the sentiment home.

Mr. Murphy’s mugging skills, at times evoking Harpo Marx, are in fine fettle, and he easily finds Jack’s dark undercurrents. But the director, Brian Robbins, perhaps as a result of his prime-time pedigree, has so carefully engineered this manipulative machine that little emotional residue remains — only a product inoffensive, unsurprising and uninspiring.